


Road Trip

by irishlullaby13



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:38:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4563168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abbie has something important she needs to tell Ichabod.  So, to put it off, she takes him on a cross-country trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1 - In which our heroes embark on a journey

It had started simply enough. Ichabod had never suspected a thing.

He had a festively wrapped package on table with a card atop it. 

She had left it the night before, after they had finished watching a disgustingly hilarious western film that documented the many means which one could die in the west. Over time, Abbie was trying to ingrain him into the modern society and one of those techniques was introducing him to films she felt he was mentally prepared for.

The box was a slightly late Christmas gift. She had told him he could open it at any time. Despite the open invitation, he had skirted around the package no less than two hours after she left. He had to force himself to go to sleep, fretting over what the gift could possibly be. Also, what he could have done to deserve a second Christmas gift when he had barely managed to acquire _one_ for her.

It was too big and square to be a book. It was too small to be one of the many kitchen gadgets that had caught his attention. Too heavy to be a phone or electronic device. Too light to be a larger electronic. 

It was about one in the morning when he finally decided to put himself out of his misery and sat at the table, in front of the box. He opened the card and saw Abbie's elegant writing that read: You're going to need this. Pack a bag. Pick you up at noon.

Painfully cryptic note aside, Ichabod was even more curious.

He would _need it_. His Lieutenant knew his communicative quirks well enough that she knew not to confuse _need_ and _want_. Therefore, he knew it was something he did not necessarily want but it was something she felt he would need for something that involved packing a bag and being ready for pick up by noon.

Ichabod carefully unwrapped the packaging, being meticulous enough to save the precious commodity for a later use. The next layer was a brown box that declared it was from a QVC. 

Oh dear.

He was well aware of Abbie's vice of sitting at home in her t-shirt and underwear, shopping from a television channel. It was how he had managed to procure more than half a dozen kitchen gadgets. Although, as far as vices went, drinking rum and ordering useless gadgets was one he could over look. However, more than once he had caught himself trying to help her curb the habit--but only because, one night, she had started crying and admitted she had a problem.

The package that had previous filled him with curiosity and interest, now filled him with trepidation. As long as she had not been on the drink, it could very well be a conscious purchase that could serve a greater use. If she had been drinking, God and Abbie alone knew what it could be.

Taking a deep breath, he cut open the cardboard box and hesitantly peered inside. He blinked down at the item inside and a slow smile went to his lips.

She remembered.

Even though they had _both_ been drinking and watching the shopping show, she had remembered his interest in a dreadfully expensive camera. Limited time, eight easy payments and free shipping, order now and it would arrive in time for Christmas.

He pulled the shiny box from inside the cardboard one and set to removing the camera and all the information he would need to read before she picked him up at noon. He was outside in his pyjama pants, learning how to use his camera, when she pulled up in a car that was _not_ her jeep.

She was dressed comfortably in shorts, tank top, and heavy hiking boots. Like she was ready for an adventure.

"It looks like you're enjoying your gift," she greeted. "Is your bag packed?"

Ichabod focused the lens on her face and snapped a photo. "I certainly am," he replied. "And my bag is packed."

"Then go get dressed, grab your bag, let's go," she said, snapping her fingers in rapid repetition. "We're going on a road trip. You're ready to see what all your hard work in the past was for." She started back toward the car. "Don't forget to bring a pillow!"

  
#  


Abbie shook her head and smiled at Ichabod's reaction to seeing New York City for the first time. Being used to the cosiness of Sleepy Hollow, he had been completely unprepared for the moment the City came into view. If she had to compare his reaction to something, it would be a child seeing Disneyland for the for time.

He had tried to contain his excitement, but she feared he would start twitching to the point he'd break a window. So, she gave him full permission to react freely. Then he had been a kid at Disneyland, pointing and chattering excitedly, his eyes wide in awe. He clicked pictures as they entered the traffic that would lead them to Times Square.

She basked in his enjoyment, dreading the moment that would be coming at the end of their excursion. She would be telling Ichabod she was leaving Sleepy Hollow. Not for long, mind, but long enough that it would cause him stress. They had accepted her application to Quantico, which meant she would be gone for a few months, maybe longer.

He didn't even know she had already quit the police department for this trip. She wanted to be able to focus on him and his emotional needs once she dropped the news. Also, she wanted to mentally prepare herself for telling him. It wasn't going to be easy for either of them.

She could already anticipate his reaction. Even the best reaction in her head was still bad and involved him shutting her out. So, seeing him so openly smiling and that glimmer in his eyes was something she wanted to hold on to. They were going to see the entire country. They had plenty of time and she had pretty of money thanks to Corbin.

She hadn't even known he had listed her as a primary beneficiary in a high dollar life insurance policy. Joe had his part and she had just left hers in the bank, sitting on it, debating whether to use it or not. When she had put in her application to Quantico, all she could hear was Corbin's voice telling her she would have to tell Crane eventually.

So she had decided to wait until she knew whether or not she was accepted. Then she had gotten accepted and suddenly there was Corbin's voice again asking her what she was going to tell Crane. It was Corbin's voice that had gotten her to plan this trip. She only maybe had a handful of places across the nation that she planned to take him to. The rest would be an on-the-fly kind of thing. But she wanted to end it in D.C. and tell him while they were on their way back to Sleepy Hollow. 

Or maybe she could wait until they actually got back.

Or maybe she could wait until a few days after they got back.

Abbie shifted in the car seat and twisted her hands around the steering wheel. She forced a grin when Ichabod started pointing enthusiastically before snapping photos. Before long she wasn't forcing the smiles, she was honesty getting caught up in the sense of unfolding adventure. They hit up Time Square, Central Park, Statue of Liberty, and a couple other spots.

She debated taking him to the beach but Key West was on her itinerary.

When they got back into the car on the final New York stop, Abbie handed her atlas to Ichabod. "Pick a destination. I don't care how you pick, just flip to a page and point for all I care. We'll go there, making stops at crappy tourist traps along the way."

Ichabod stared at the atlas in his hands. His face suddenly looked serious. "I was reading on the internet that there was a perfect route already planned..."

Abbie shook her head. "I expect to end up on Route 66 at some point and we ride it all the way out to the west coast." Ichabod nodded curtly. "Do you even know what route 66 is?"

"I do not," Ichabod sighed.

"Look it up on the internet while I drive. Now, pick a state," Abbie said.

Ichabod took a deep breath and opened the atlas. "Georgia," he provided.

"I think you will like the first stop on the way to Georgia," Abbie provided with a wicked grin.

"Oh, and where shall we be stopping?"

"Virginia. It should only take about six hours or so to get there," she said. "We'll get a hotel when we get to Williamsburg and... in the morning we'll go have some fun in town."

"Williamsburg," Ichabod said with an affectionate tone. "I look forward to seeing how the city has progressed since my day."

Abbie smiled to herself and put the car into drive. Boy, was he in for a surprise.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroine is argues the merits of waffles and our hero thinks his lieutenant is dying.

Abbie realized they should have done this sooner when they stopped for a bathroom break half way to Williamsburg. Either that or she should have taken him somewhere that had automatic flushing toilets sooner. As it was, he had come staggering out of the men's restrooms and promptly dragged her into it to show off the 'ingeniously magnificent contraption.'

By time they reached Williamsburg the sun was down and Ichabod was curled up in the passenger seat sleeping, so he had missed the billboards advertising where they would be going in the morning. Abbie pulled into the first decent looking hotel and got a room the night. When she got back to the car, Ichabod was waking up and looking around confused.

She held up the card. "We're stopping for the night, wakeup sleepy head."

Ichabod rubbed his face and murmured intelligibly. He blinked and shook his head to clear it. "What did I miss?"

"Just the state line," Abbie said, crawling back into the car. "Our room is around the backside of the hotel."

Ichabod nodded as she cranked up. They pulled around the backside of the hotel and she parked in front of the room. The room was the normal faire one might expect when they wanted a low rate and a bed to sleep in. She had a reservation elsewhere, but it wasn't until the next night and she wanted to make sure Ichabod wanted to stay another night.

Abbie grabbed the bed closest to the air conditioner and started plundering through her bags for what she would need for a shower. She frowned when she saw a brown paper bag in her toiletries bag. Jenny had taped a note on the bag:

_Just in case ;)_

Abbie opened the bag and looked in to see the bag was packed with condoms. "God dammit, Jenny," she groused as Ichabod shuffled into the room with his bag. He looked at her questioningly. She shook her head and sighed. "Just Jenny being Jenny, don't worry about it."

Ichabod fell face first into his bed, hanging half off of it.

Abbie looked at her watch. "It's not _that_ late," she said. "It's only a little after eight. We still got time to walk over to the Waffle House and watch a movie before going to sleep."

Ichabod lifted his head just enough to respond, "Your fixation with waffles astounds me. I just never imagined you would wish to visit a house of waffles."

"Waffles are infinitely superior to pancakes, Ichabod," Abbie said flatly. "The sooner you learn this, the better. Waffle House is a diner, just like the one in Sleepy Hollow. Now come on, I'm starving and you have to be too, since we didn't stop to eat."

Ichabod pulled himself up off the bed and smoothed down his coat. "I am feeling considerably peckish now that you make mention of it. Which film will we be enjoying this evening?"

Abbie reached into her movie bag and pulled out the option for that evening. "Limitless starring the delectable Bradley Cooper." She showed him the cover. He arched a questionable eyebrow. "It's a more modern film. I think you're ready for it."

"I was more or less wondering if you realized I care nothing about his _delectability_ , Lieutenant," Ichabod stated. 

Abbie tilted her head and blinked at him. He was always confusing her. He obviously like women, being he had been madly in love with Katrina. But other than that, he had never seemed to take interest in any other female. He hadn't really shown anything other than a polite, albeit friendly, affection for the ex-fiancée and Caroline. 

More than a few things he had said made her think, maybe he played on both sides of the fence, or was at least open to it. But even that was proving to be a dead end. Or maybe Bradley Cooper just wasn't his type. 

"Oh come on," Abbie teased. "He's tall, dark, and handsome... And tell me one thing that is sexier than baby blue eyes." She hugged the case to her chest and sighed dramatically. "Love me some blue eyes."

When she looked at Ichabod, she realized what she had just said. The fleeting glow of hope she had seen on his face faded into something more passive and protected. Something very major occurred to Abbie in that brief moment... Maybe he was that rare and elusive type that had to feel an emotional connection to someone in order to be attracted to them.

And maybe, just maybe, he felt that connection... with _her_.

Abbie put down the movie and held her hand out to Ichabod. "Come on, let's go get something to eat," she said gently.

If her theories were correct, she was going to have to focus solely on the adventures that lay ahead for them. Because God knew, if she was right, it was going to be even harder for her to to tell him about Quantico.

  
#  


She was hiding something. 

He should have seen the signs sooner. Even prior to their leaving, he had noted a certain degree of sadness in her eyes mixed with trepidation. But, he trusted his Lieutenant to tell him in her own time. She had to first trust herself with being able to share the secret. Either that or she would bottle it in until she just couldn't hold it any longer.

After their modest dinner of waffles and hash browns, they had returned to their room. Abbie had instantly went to her nightly ritual of showering and getting ready for bed. He had observed her ritual several times in the first month after Katrina's demise, she hadn't wanted to leave him alone, for which he was grateful. He was pleased to see she had not deviated from her pattern, it was the one thing he could point out when she teased him about his habits.

Although watching her out of the peripheral, pacing and humming a tune in nothing more than a towel, as she brushed her teeth was rather distracting. Especially with the revelation she had shared mere moments prior to their leaving for dinner.

 _Love me some blue eyes_.

While he was certain she could not have been directly referring to him, per se, he had pieced together a pattern in the gentlemen she seemed to be attracted to. Many of her favourite actors were rugged types with sort of shaggy hair and various similar attributes. One of the most prevalent features being blue eyes.

"Your turn," Abbie said, interrupting his musings. She nodded toward the shower. "Come on, so I can get my p.j.'s on."

Ichabod grabbed up his pyjamas and dashed into the bathroom, closing the door a little too quickly behind him in his eagerness to get away from the towel clad distraction. By time he had finished, Abbie was on the phone, talking quietly. He lingered just inside of the bathroom, leaving the door open only a crack.

"Yeah well, it wasn't funny Jenny," she was grumbling. "Just... just put the results with my other paperwork, all right? Thanks for letting me know. I have to give it to the doctor when I get back. No I haven't told him yet... Because, Jenny, he'll be devastated. Because right now I'm being a little selfish. I mean, you saw what he was like after Katrina... Do really want a repeat of that? He needs some happiness right now, I'm not going to ruin it. Okay... _I need some happiness right now_. Is that better? Can't we both just make some good memories while I knock a few things off my bucket list? Besides he needs this before I'm not here to help him."

Ichabod frowned. _Bucket list_? Perhaps he could google the term later...

Shortly thereafter, Abbie ended the conversation with Jenny. Ichabod counted to ten before exiting the bathroom. Abbie turned on the television and started surfing through the channels. Her eyes widened and she made a pleased sound. He knew that expression very well...

"Abbie..." he said with a warning tone. "Is it something you honestly need?"

"But I can get it to match my casserole dishes," she said in a hushed tone. "And they can do it with five easy pays..."

Ichabod walked over to see the item in question. _A series of baking dishes_... He had never once seen Abbie bake, nor use the matching set of casserole dishes she had gotten a few months back. "Abigail... when was the last time you baked a pie... or muffins?"

She angled a glare at him and scowled. "I could start. I mean... I don't bake because I don't have the stuff to--" Her face fell. "I don't even use my casserole dishes..." She worried her bottom lip then her eyes lit up. "Jenny might use them..."

"How about we start the film?" Ichabod requested, picking up his phone. "The segment will be repeated later, if you still want them at that time, you should do it."

Abbie gave him a pleasant smile. "You're right," she said, nodding. "Give myself some time to think about it." She scooted over and patted the bed next to her. "Movie time."

Ichabod settled in on the bed while Abbie hooked the small player up to the TV and started the DVD. While she was involved in that, he accessed the browser on his phone and typed in _bucket list meaning_. He felt his heart fall at the results:

_A list of things to do before you die._

_A list of things that one has not done but wants to do before dying._

He cleared the screen and placed the phone delicately on the night stand between the beds. His Lieutenant was... dying? And she had responded by taking him to see the country? He could feel a panic beginning to form. _Results... doctor... he would be devastated... before I'm not here to help him..._

He quickly tempered his emotions before she turned her attention from the DVD player and put on a smile. Ichabod wanted to tell her he knew what she was putting off telling him. He wanted to hold her close and tell her he would always hold her dearest to his heart. He wanted to tell her that, despite her tiny frame and short stature, she was the mightiest force on the planet he had ever had the good fortune to know...

Suddenly he saw her as something small and delicate. _No, no, no_... He couldn't see her in such a manner. She would surely smite him where he sat should he do her such an injustice. No... if anything, she was even stronger than he had ever given her credit for. To hold in the secret so that she could forge joyous memories, and leave him with some, one must surely be steadfast and have the constitution of iron.

And for it to be he which she made these precious memories with...

Abbie finished her task and joined him on the bed, cuddling up to his side as they had done numerous times on either the cabin sofa or the sofa of her apartment. Ichabod looped an arm around her and placed his hand at the curve of her waist, which made her shift closer.

"Lieutenant," he said gently. "If I may take a moment to thank you for the honour and privilege of accompanying you on this journey..."

Abbie looked up at him and smiled. She patted his chest and replied, "There's no one else I would rather take it with."

Ichabod rested his cheek on top of her head and wondered how he was going to keep it together so that Abbie could stay strong. Then it occurred to him... while she was focused on making certain he was happy, he could focus on assuring hers. No matter what it took, he would make sure there was not a moment on this trip that she would not be smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which heroine tries something new and our hero enjoys living in the past. And they both have some issues controlling themselves.

Ichabod kept his eyes closed as Abbie lead him through what was undoubtedly a mass of people. He could hear them all around. The entire morning had started enjoyably enough. As it were, he had awoken to find himself curled up around the petite lieutenant, his face buried in her hair and his senses invaded by the sweet scent that permeated from her locks and skin. Not to mention he couldn't have escaped the embrace, even if he had wanted to, because she had entangled her arms with his and trapped him there.

So he had gotten to enjoy the earliest hours of his day waiting for the alarm on Abbie's phone to go off. Even then he retained a still composure as she murmured softly and blindly reached out to tap the snooze option. She had then shifted around to face him, easing her feet between his legs, an arm over his waist, the other arm curled between them and she put her hand over his heart, and her nose into the curve of his neck. Then she had sighed with contentment and drifted back to sleep until her alarm went off again.

When the phone started making the infernal bleeping noise, Abbie had gave a small, displeased groan. "Ichabod...?" she had said quietly, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" he asked softly.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of the worn cotton of his bed shirt. She didn't pull away, if anything she shifted closer to him, the hand near his waist slipped idly under the edge of his shirt and she lazily traced her fingers along his spine. "This is nice," she whispered.

She tilted her face enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath and the softness of her lips on his adam's apple. There was many words he could use to describe how he felt in that moment, "nice" was one of the simpler terms. He reached out and silenced the alarm. "Indeed it is, Lieutenant," he murmured, angling his face so he could see her sleepy smile.

Abbie then, most unexpectedly, pressed her lips to his. He wasn't certain as to what had prompted it but he was under no circumstances inclined to object and do anything other than return it. The hand at his back flattened and pulled him closer as her mouth opened underneath his. He cradled her head in his hand, stroking the apple of her cheek with his thumb as they both took time to leisurely explore. 

When he shifted her onto her back, the hand at his chest instantly went to his hair. Being it was early morning and he had not yet prepared himself for the day, his hair was hanging loose, so she tangled her fingers into the untethered tresses. She arched into his hand as it travelled from her face and down her body to rest at her side.

He wasn't certain how much further they would have gone had the alarm not started bleeping yet again. Abbie stiffened at the sound, breaking the kiss with a gasp. Ichabod pulled back, sensing her withdrawal in her widened eyes and surprised expression. She cupped a hand over her mouth.

"Oh God," she groaned in horror. "That was _not_ a dream..." Abbie pushed him to arms length and rolled off of the bed. She grabbed up her phone and silenced the alarm. "I'll be back in a few... Go ahead and get dressed and..." Her eyes swept down his body then returned to his face. "Whatever else you need to do to be ready for the day."

Ichabod stared at her in confusion. "What state of dress is required for the day's activities?"

Abbie's jaw dropped slightly and she gave a very odd laugh that seemed to be torn between humour and bitter irony. "Clothes. Yes. Clothes will be required. There should definitely be clothing on... your..." she moved her hands to indicate his presence. She folded her arms over her chest and huffed out a sigh. "Did you bring your suit? The black one? Not the modern one, the other one... the one that you got from the re-enactors?"

Ichabod pieced together what she had said and nodded. "It's in the car."

"I will... go and get it," Abbie said with just a little too much enthusiasm and hurried out of the room as if pursued by a horde of demons. 

Ichabod clambered out of the bed and retreated to the bathroom for his morning shower. He tentatively exited once he was done, worrying over the idea of Abbie seeing him in nothing but a towel. However, she was not in the room and his suit was hanging up in the little alcove that housed the sink and ironing board.

He considered the ensemble for a long moment, wondering why Abbie would actually want him to wear such an outfit in public. Although she had never really said anything outside of a friendly tease, he knew she would feel more comfortable if he took to wearing modern clothing. Unless her discomfort at being with him in his normal attire was simply in his head.

He walked to the window and peered out of the curtain. Abbie was digging in the trunk of the car while having her phone wedged between her shoulder and ear. If it were Jenny she was speaking to, he would have plenty of time to get changed. True to that theory, she walked in with some bags just as he was pulling on his boots.

Ichabod stood and bowed toward her politely, flourishing an arm dramatically just to make her laugh. "Do I meet your approval, Lieutenant," he asked.

Abbie nodded, grinning ear to ear. "Yes," she replied. "You meet my approval."

He tried not to wonder how many more chances he would get to see that smile on her face. As it were he felt he had not seen it enough. He grabbed up his camera and managed to capture the grin before it faded. Abbie looked down at her feet shyly.

"I'm going to get ready," she said quietly and took her bags into the alcove. "Can you help me right quick?"

Ichabod felt his face warm. "Help you... get changed?"

Abbie hid her face in her hand. "I am just on a roll today aren't I?" she sighed. She dropped her hand and shook her head. "No I need plenty of room to get changed so I need to tack this up." She reached into a bag and pulled out a folded sheet of fabric. "If we put the holes behind the pictures we should be able to do it without getting in trouble with the hotel. I mean... unless you want to see me naked."

Ichabod tried not to think about Abbie naked and going about her rituals of brushing teeth and styling her hair. It was alluring enough when she did so in nothing more than a towel. Thankfully she swept past him without waiting for a response and started spreading out the sheet to tack it on the wall. Ichabod turned on his heels and helped her.

"Lieutenant," he said, once the sheet was secured. "I would like to apologize for our... ill-conceived tryst this morning. I was unaware, at the time, that you were not in full possession of your facilities."

"Don't worry about it," Abbie said quickly. "I was the one that kissed you because I thought I was dreaming... If anything I should be the one apologizing."

She ducked behind the curtain quickly. Ichabod frowned. He wondered how, precisely, the admission she thought it was a dream would not rise even more questions than it answered. Nor had she exactly apologized despite saying she should. 

Instead of pursing the issue, Ichabod decided the Lieutenant was obviously just having a stressful morning and would not mention it again unless she wished to. Besides it wasn't as if he, himself, had not had such dreams about her. It was only natural, he reasoned, when they spent as much time together as they did.

Ichabod touched his lips. 

Dream or not, her kiss had incited _feelings_ he had thought himself incapable of outside of his late wife. But that had been the case with Abbie for some time. He had felt torn between the two women, one he had a new and incredibly strong bond with and the other he had held on to a bond that had once existed. Once Katrina had been freed from Purgatory, he had hoped the bond still remained but... he had not felt it the same as he once had, but he had tried hard to hold on to the delicate bond they had.

Ichabod stared at the mirror that reflected his seated form. For the first time he could recollect, he felt out of place in his setting. He was something old and dated amongst modern amenities. A first edition amongst seventh editions. He was fairly certain if he sat long enough and thought about it, he would have even more similes at his disposal.

His ears pricked at the sound of Abbie humming in the shower. 

She had been doing everything in her power to bring him kicking and screaming into the modern age. Now that he reflected upon the various films they had enjoyed together, they all had a rather prevailing theme with the male protagonist...

They would start out unkempt and rude but would eventually have someone or something that would lead them to tidying up, as it were, and becoming the image of a modern gentleman. Perhaps that was what he needed to do so that Abbie could be assured he was properly engrained into modern society before she--

Ichabod drew in a sharp breath and pushed the words from his mind. He would not ruin things by getting caught up on the lieutenant's imminent demise. 

When he heard her come out of the bathroom, he asked, "Lieutenant... Do you wish for me to change my state of dress so as to not cause you embarrassment?"

"No," Abbie promptly replied. "You're fine. You're not going to embarrass me. In fact, I think I may be the one to embarrass you today..." She peeped around the curtain and pointed to one of her bags. "Could you hand that to me? I need to torture my hair a little bit."

Ichabod retrieved the bag in question, making a mad attempt to capture a paper bag as it tumbled out, and missing. He reached over to get it but Abbie quickly halted him.

"I don't need that bag," she said quickly. "Just the one you have in your hand right now. In fact, you can throw that other one into the trash if you want."

Ichabod handed over the bag full of various hair styling instruments. As soon as Abbie disappeared behind the curtain again, he retrieved the paper bag and immediately regretted the decision as the contents spilled out and he flushed at the recognition of what it had been. It seems he was not the only one Jenny had tried to force contraceptives on prior to their leaving Sleepy Hollow. Although Jenny seemed to have taken a sneakier means of getting them into Abbie's possession. Jenny had just shoved a handful of them into his coat pocket and said with a wicked smile.

Behind the curtain Abbie had started quietly singing a song about swinging from chandeliers. Ichabod was looking around for the bin which she said he could deposit the paper bag and its contents. He began to panic when he realized there was not anywhere to throw them out and shoved them into his own bag just so Abbie would not have to deal with them.

His timing couldn't have been better because, no sooner than he had zipped his bag shut, Abbie came from behind the curtain asking for his assistance.

Ichabod looked up from his bag and felt like he had been struck in the gut. He blinked at Abbie, dressed in a black shift and she was trying to put on a matching corset. Her hair was in large curls, the sides pinned up with sparkling butterfly pins. She arched her eyebrows when he stood there dumbfounded.

"Earth to Ichabod?" she chimed, snapping her fingers to get his attention.

He shook his head to clear it. "Pardon?"

"They said this thing was supposed to be able to be tied by the person wearing it, but I think I'm doing it wrong," Abbie sighed. "I can't get the top to cinch up right. Can you help?" She turned her back to him and held the corset in place with one hand and her curls up with the other.

"I was... unaware modern women still wore corsets," Ichabod said as he gently pulled at the cords criss-crossing the back of the garment. While he knew modern undergarments for women were more revealing than what Abbie currently wore--and he had seen her wearing only a towel more than once--something about her current appearance made his face warm and he felt she was being just a little immodest.

"Some of them do," Abbie replied. "Not too tight. I want to be able to breathe."

"Corsets were not intended to encumber the wearer," Ichabod pointed out. "Their intent was to define--" he carefully tightened the cords to the best of his ability, considering his only experience with corsets was in their removal, then tied it securely. "--and provide support. Although I suppose some would do so..." He placed a hand at the curve of her waist and leaned close to her ear. "Is it suitably tight?"

"I..." Abbie said, her voice barely above a breath. She cleared her throat and stepped away and laughed softly. "I almost said something I shouldn't have. But I need to hurry so we can get out of here by eleven. But it's good. Not too tight, not too loose. Thanks. Can you get our bags into the car while I finish up?"

"Certainly," Ichabod said with a polite bow.

She then disappeared behind the curtain again.

Ichabod gathered the bags, took them to the car, and packed them into the trunk. When he entered the room again, Abbie was grousing, "--stupid... Why can't I ever look right in a dress? Stupid, stupid, stupid... God I feel stupid. I was not made for this."

He closed the door and Abbie fell silent. "I'm certain it's not that terrible," he assured. "And I can recollect twice that I have seen you in a dress and you--what is the modern term-- _rocked it_."

That elicited a soft laugh from the other side of the curtain. "I feel stupid..."

"Let us see," Ichabod encouraged. "I promise to be objectively honest in my opinion."

"Okay... just promise not to laugh," Abbie requested. "I was trying to do something special... Close your eyes."

Ichabod sighed heavily and closed his eyes. "How am I supposed to give an opinion on your dress if my eyes are closed?" He heard her shuffling from behind the curtain.

"Okay... you can look."

Ichabod opened his eyes and felt his mouth fall open in a most undignified manner. Abbie was wearing a gown that would fit in with his home era more than her own. It was a lovely pastel yellow with tiny flowers pattern. She somehow managed to look even more petite than normal, despite his knowing her corset had not been cinched too tight. She looked down shyly and smoothed the fabric with her hands.

It was not the ostentatious fashion of the aristocracy, but it was certainly something the lady of a prominent house would wear. Added in with the curls and sparkling hair pins, he could not look away from her.

"Oh God now I feel ridiculous," she groaned.

"You do not look at all ridiculous, Lieutenant," Ichabod managed, still staring in awe. He blinked, thinking perhaps, he was hallucinating. But Abbie was still in the dress. "You're... beautiful. Although... what has brought on the change of wardrobe?"

Abbie gave him a smile and tugged on the ruffles at her elbows. "I told you... it's a surprise. _But_... I will need you to drive to today's destination since this dress isn't exactly conducive to doing it myself. Think you can manage?"

"Perhaps if I knew precisely where we were going..." Ichabod replied.

Abbie held up her phone. "I have the address in my navigation so you just have to follow the instructions." She looked down at her dress. "You're sure I look all right?"

"You're... perfection," Ichabod assured.

  
#  


Abbie couldn't help but grin as they walked, arm-in-arm, down the dirt streets of Colonial Williamsburg. Ichabod was chatting excitedly about memories from his life in the past in relation to the buildings.

When they had arrived, he had thought she had led him to some sort of revolutionary themed amusement park. But his apprehension had dissipated quickly when he realized it was literally a section of town that functioned almost exactly as it had in his day. Abbie had laughed when they went to the governor's palace and he laid on the floor to get a good photo of the bayonet's decorating the ceiling of the foyer.

He was almost a reflection of the man she had enlisted to help her when she had been taken into the past... Then again he was practically in his natural element so it was understandable. She was even both surprised and amused that he didn't try to correct any interpreters, instead he played right along with them--although he did question a few of them rather extensively, throwing in random bits of false information to see if it would throw them for a loop.

"Never once do they break character," Ichabod commented. "It's... astounding. I hadn't a clue a place such as this existed. Even the re-enactors I associate with have never made mention of it or put such detail into their roles." He gave her a sidelong glance. "Although, one aspect is thankfully inaccurate."

"Oh? What aspect is that?" Abbie asked. 

"If my memory serves me correctly--"

"And it more than likely does," Abbie piped in.

"Virginia was one of the colonies with very strict miscegenation laws," Ichabod continued. "Had you and I walked with as much familiarity as we do today, we could have potentially faced felony charges."

Abbie looked up at him with a sneaky smile on her lips. "Mister Crane, are you suggesting people would think we've been indiscrete?" she said in a hushed but teasing tone, trying to mock a British accent. She cleared her throat and patted her chest. "Urgh remind me not to do that again."

She wasn't sure if she was referring to the accent, trying to talk like she was from his time period, or both. She was thinking both. Abbie thought a moment, trying to remember exactly what miscegenation actually was. She felt like she had heard the term before...

Ichabod mulled her question for a moment. "We arrived together, have spent all of our time in each other's company, not to mention, we departed the same quarters at the hotel in the same carriage, as it were. They would undoubtedly make all the connections necessary for a conviction. And if they could not, the hotel staff would most assuredly give testimony we shared quarters through the night and that one of the beds was unused."

It clicked where she had heard miscegenation. It was a real fancy way of implying an intimate, interracial relationship. "That's terrible..." Abbie said, shaking her head.

"No, terrible is that I would potentially be facing a hanging," Ichabod said.

"Hanging? Just because you may or may not have had your way with me?" Abbie asked, looking up at him, horrified. She tried not to think of him having his way with her and hoped he wasn't thinking of it either.

"I would have besmirched the virtue of a lady, which could be on par with treasonous behaviour in those days," Ichabod replied. "They would consider your status... An unbetrothed young woman, too innocent in the ways of the world to know that what took place was wrong. I obviously misled you on my intentions, and took advantage of your ignorance, since we could not legally marry in Virginia. Best case scenario, they would see we came from the New York colony where such a union was simply frowned upon but not banned and allow us to return home..."

"If they could prove we had been engaged in an affair," Abbie piped in.

Ichabod stopped and faced Abbie. She turned toward him as well. He tilted her chin up. Her eyes flickered to his mouth as he lightly moistened his lips. "In those days, a kiss alone could constitute such an affair."

"They don't have any pro--" Ichabod chastely kissed her, for just a moment, before she pulled back and looked around to see if anyone had witnessed it. She wrapped her arms around one of his and leaned her cheek against his coat sleeve. "We should get some lunch at the Raleigh. Then you can run around town a bit while I get us checked into the lodging."

"I feel I may go and see how accurate their Thomas Jefferson interpreter is," Ichabod said with a wicked smirk. "Perhaps he will be convincing enough to start an argument with me."

Abbie nudged him with her shoulder. "Behave yourself. No starting arguments with the faux fathers."

Ichabod grinned at her pun. "Which is why I said _he_ would be the one to start it."

  
#  


Abbie closed her eyes and sighed, trying to pretend to sleep in order to _actually_ go to sleep. It had only been one night... how the hell could she be missing him sleeping next to her after one night? It wasn't like they hadn't fallen asleep on the sofa several times watching a movie. How did falling sleep in a bed while watching a movie make a difference?

Because she hadn't kissed him the other times. Because he hadn't kissed her. Because she hadn't had to _feel_ his eyes on her most of the day. Because it had been so long since she had seen him genuinely laugh with someone, as she had walked up on, when he was talking to the Thomas Jefferson interpreter between his scheduled segments. Because he hadn't helped her in and out of a corset before.

There were just so many "becauses" that they were keeping her awake. She sighed heavily and looked at her phone, which made her think a moment. Abbie mentally swore. It was a few days before she normally started her period, no wonder she was fluctuating between being hot, cold, and horny.

_Just go and ask him if he wants to sleep in your bed_ she scolded herself. _You're both adults. You'll just be sleeping. It's nothing to do with hormones. The bed is big enough._

They were in one of the small, colonial lodging houses. She thought it would be a nice surprise at the end of the day. It had the added bonus that they didn't have to drive anywhere when they were ready to leave. Ichabod was getting better, but his driving still secretly scared the hell out of her.

He had insisted she take the room with the queen size canopy bed while he took the room with two smaller beds. But now the bed felt too big, too empty, and cold. She had tried sleeping in just the shift she had worn under her dress all day, but she kept getting herself tangled in the length of it and she started burning up. So she had attempted to sleep naked and been too cold. So she put on her normal bed clothes and was too hot again.

Which was how she was once again naked.

It occurred to her that her inability to wear clothing while she slept was the biggest contributing factor to her not wanting to get up and ask Ichabod to come to her bed. Although she wondered how he would react to her being naked in the bed with him.

No, no, no... no naked and no Ichabod in her bed. She didn't need it right now. It would just further complicate an already complicated matter. She had to tell him. She wanted to tell him. She needed to tell him. Soon. Just not right now.

Abbie held a breath as she heard a tentative knock at her door. There was only one person it could be. Besides, who else would have such perfect timing other than Ichabod? So, she dragged herself out of the bed and pulled the shift on before going to the door and opened it a crack. "Hey," she said quietly.

Ichabod was standing there, fingers fidgeting at his sides. The expression on his face was a combination of lost, confused, terrified, and sad. She had seen the look before, just hours after Katrina's death. Abbie opened the door wide and took his hands. 

"Hey," she repeated soothingly, pulling him into the room. "Ichabod... are you okay?"

"Abigail... I..." he started and then he searched her face. He turned his hands in hers and squeezed her fingers. "I... am unable to sleep. My mind cannot find peace. I have such troubling thoughts plaguing me. I am wholly unprepared to be without you." He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

Ichabod gathered her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

Abbie stroked his hair. "Hey now," she said gently. "We're not supposed to be sad..." Saying such only seemed to make him cling to her tighter. Had the day over-whelmed him once he had tried to lay down? "I had planned to stay one more day but... if you want we can get back on the road in the morning if everything here is a bit too much for you."

Instead of having her own personal motives for getting him into her bed, she now only wanted to make sure Ichabod felt safe and secure. She knew occasionally he might have bad times where he replayed that day over in his head. But he hadn't had one for a while. Obviously today had triggered something.

And it was her fault.

God, how could she have been so stupid and blind? She should have known better...

Ichabod held her at arms length after a moment. "Spending the day in this place has been... wonderful. I simply... could not bare being apart from you, Lieutenant."

"You're just lonely?" Abbie asked. "That's it?" He nodded. "You sure?" There was something he wasn't telling her. She could feel it.

"Yes," Ichabod replied without the slightest hesitation. 

She led him over to the bed and he perched on the edge, looking at their joined hands. It made her heart hurt when he looked so helpless as he flattened their palms against each other, detailing just how much bigger his hands were than hers. His fingers closed around hers, his hands were trembling as he softly squeezed them reassuringly.

Abbie wanted to ask him what had really gotten him so worked up. But she knew if he didn't want to tell, she wasn't going to be able to coax it out of him. She used the hand he wasn't holding to brush his hair away from his face. When he looked up at her, she gave him a reassuring smile. "Well I'm here," she said. "I'm not going anywhere right now."

Ichabod searched her face. "Lieutenant..." he said quietly. "This morning, you said you thought it was a dream...?"

Abbie felt her face warm. No, she wanted to say, she had known exactly what she was doing. Her alarm had just brought her to her senses and made her stop before she got carried away. But she wasn't sure how much he knew or how understanding he would be of female hormonal urges. She tried to keep her breath steady while thinking about that kiss.

And the soft press of his lips to hers while they had been meandering through the town.

In the end, she wasn't really sure which of them moved first. Maybe they had moved at the same time. All she knew was that the moment their mouths came together, she was lost. There was neither the tender exploration from that morning nor the innocence of the one they had shared not too far from the lodge. This kiss seemed to be jumping up and down screaming words like _devour_ , _consume_ , _lust_ , and _now_.

Abbie climbed onto his lap and his hands rested on her hips. Her brain chose that moment to comment on the irony of him being in modern pyjamas and her being in clothes from his time period. She shoved that annoying little voice to the furthest reaches of her mind and just concentrated on his mouth and his tongue...

His hands slid from her hips to grip her backside. Her back hit the mattress, making her gasp into Ichabod's mouth. His lips grazed her jaw, his hands skimmed up her body to tug the tie of her shift loose. Abbie tried to move but, for starters, the skirt of her shift was pinned to the bed by Ichabod's hips wedged between her legs.

Ichabod nuzzled the underside of her chin then made a frustrated sound. "We should not..." he murmured. He raised his head and looked down at her. "I fear I cannot, with a clear conscious..."

Abbie nodded shakily. "Okay..." she said breathlessly, dropping her hands away from him. "It's okay..." She could do this... she could calm herself down...

Ichabod's mouth crashed down on hers again. _Maybe she wouldn't have to calm herself down after all..._

Her head fell back as his mouth moved down her throat. The tiny voice of her own conscious began to remind her that she had yet to tell him about Quantico and that going too far in this--regardless of what "this" ended up being in the end--would make it even harder to tell him. "Ichabod..." Abbie moaned. Oh God, she hadn't meant to make it sound like an encouragement.

"Abbie," he breathed against her jaw before placing small kisses just below her ear. Abbie shivered as his breath tickled the delicate hairs over the sensitive skin.

When she threaded her fingers in his hair, she'd had every intention of pulling him away. Instead, she held him in place and arched against him. She almost lost it when his fingertips grazed her thigh, sliding underneath her shift. Abbie seized the reprieve from his weight on the material to grant her legs more room to move.

_His conscious. Her conscious. Please God don't stop..._

Ichabod froze and Abbie realized only two words had left her mouth: conscious and stop. Of course the wrong but right words would surface. Wrong in the manner that she hadn't wanted him to stop. Right because they _needed_ to stop.

Besides Jenny would never let her live it down if it came out she had only managed to hold out a few hours over an entire day.

When Ichabod lifted his head, her took her face in his hands. "Thank you, Lieutenant for having the power of wills, whereas I did not," he said softly. He placed a feather light kiss on her forehead. "I suppose it would prove best that I return to my quarters..."

"Ichabod, I need to tell you something," Abbie started. "I'm..." A brief panic crossed his features and he put a finger to her lips, making her stop her confession.

"Please, do not say it," he quietly pleaded. "I fear I could not bare it at this delicate juxtaposition in our journey." 

Abbie thought about his state when she had opened the door. She wished he would be open about what had made him so distressed. Then again, how she could she expect him to be open when she was keeping her own secret? 

But, for now at least, he had given her relief from having to tell him for just a little bit longer. And when they spooned together, her cradled in his arms, she swore he was holding her as though she would float away if he didn't hold onto her for dear life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes consider swimwear, truths come out, and our heroine trolls herself

Abbie awoke with a start. She relaxed when she recognized the room, smell of salty sea air, and could hear the chatter of seagulls outside. Her head chose that moment to remind her of too damn much tequila and other concoctions the night before. At least her stomach wasn't churning... yet. There was not any doubt in her mind that if she pulled away from the warm, naked, body pressed steadfast against her back and attempted to sit up, that would quickly change.

_Wait a minute... What the hell?_

Her eyes widened as she observed the pale arm draped over her. _Oh God..._ She knew those hands. She had numerous fantasies about those hands...

_Oh God..._

Drawing in a deep breath, Abbie slid a hand down the bare hip of her bed partner to confirm nakedness, just in case she was wrong--she was hung over after all. She started mentally swearing and leapt out of the bed. Ichabod murmured sleepy and pulled her pillow into his embrace before drifting back to sleep.

Abbie searched the floor frantically, because that was where everything they had been wearing the night before was currently strewn. She swallowed hard when the urge to vomit hit her--she told herself it wasn't because of the situation and was completely due to the alcohol consumed the night before. 

Grabbing up her dress and her phone, Abbie quickly retreated to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. She ended up emptying her stomach into the bath. _Dammit, dammit, dammit... what had happened?_ She didn't even remember leaving the bar...

Once her heaving had stopped, she pulled her dress over her head and tugged it into place. Then she dialled Jenny's number. She redialled when the first try was unsuccessful. This time, on the second ring, her sister's sleepy voice muttered, "This better be good or I'm going to choke you when you get home."

Abbie drew in a deep breath. "Jenny," she said, her voice shaking. "I think I screwed up."

"What happened?" Jenny asked, suddenly sounding wide awake.

She sat on the edge of the bathtub and put her face in her free hand. "I don't know..."

  
#  


_24 hours earlier... Outside of Miami, FL_

Abbie knocked on the dressing room door. "Come on... let's see it."

"No," Ichabod said tersely from the other side of the door.

She groaned with annoyance. "Come on, Crane, I want to get to Key West before the sun comes up."

"You _are_ aware the sun come up in the east, aren't you Lieutenant?" Ichabod asked. 

Abbie rolled her eyes and shook her head. He always got testy when in an uncomfortable situation. "Yes I'm aware the sun rises in the east," she retorted in an almost mocking tone. She looked at her watch. "I just want to get there before everyone starts waking up. That's about four hours. It takes less than three to get there."

"I refuse to come out," Ichabod huffed. 

"Either open the door or I will crawl under it," Abbie threatened. "And you know I'll do it."

It was ridiculous. They had been zip-lining in Kentucky caverns, looked out over seven states from the top of a mountain in Chattanooga, then took the hike to Ruby Falls. She had managed to coax Ichabod into the Atlanta underground despite his being terrified of the escalator's descent angle. Hell, he had become so emotional when she had recited the "I have a dream" speech, while touring King's Birth home, that he had to run to the bathroom so she wouldn't have to witness it.

She had gotten him on a roller coaster at Disney for crying out loud. Not to mention she had lost him in a casino--she had found him, after nearly an hour of looking, at the craps table observing a game. 

Yet he was too scared to come out of a dressing room in swimming trunks. Theoretically they could wait until they got to Key West but she had a feeling they would cost a hell of a lot more there than at Wal-Mart. Not to mention they would have to wait until a shop opened instead of getting to enjoy the beach before everyone else got there.

She heard him concede with an annoyed sigh. The lock popped and the door opened just enough that she could look in... and she started laughing. "No, no... definitely not," Abbie said, shaking her head.

Ichabod scowled and yanked the door shut and relocked it.

"Sorry, neon green just really doesn't suit you," Abbie said, amusement still in her voice. 

"That is an understatement," Ichabod replied. "I feel these so-called swimming trunks are a waste of time considering I cannot swim."

"Then we won't go out far into the water," Abbie sighed. "Just enough that you see there is nothing to worry about." She looked at the other pairs of shorts in the cart. "We'll go with the black ones. They seem more... conventional."

"Quite the contrary, Lieutenant," Ichabod said, coming out of the dressing room in his normal clothes. "The oceans are teeming with wildlife, many of which are very capable of doing us great harm." He frowned as he tried to adjust the collar of his coat. "There are few things more irritating than trying to make a new coat behave as the old one."

Abbie stood on her toes and took over the task. She could feel the light impression of his fingers on her hips as she pressed against him to reach collar. Was it necessary for them to be so close in that moment? No. Did it feel right to share such a seemingly innocent moment of intimacy? Yes. "There... perfect," she said quietly, once she was done. She smoothed down the front of the coat just to give herself an excuse to continue touching him.

Ichabod didn't seem to mind at any rate.

She just wished she knew how he had managed to acquire the coat, she wasn't really sure how it came into his possession. All she knew is that one second he had his well worn one on, while at Colonial Williamsburg, and then he had wandered off. When she found him, he had the new coat and looked like he had gotten away with something incredibly sneaky. 

A thought occurred to her... she hoped he hadn't stolen the thing. "Ichabod," she said carefully. "How did you get this coat?"

"If you are concerned that I acquired it by illegal means, you can cease worrying," he replied. "You are not the only one who can make friends with ease. The friend I made, however, was able to tell me how to go about purchasing it."

"With what money?" Abbie asked.

"I will have you know I have been able to amass _some_ funds by assisting various citizens of Sleepy Hollow with tasks," Ichabod said with a bit of pride. "Not enough to sustain myself but enough to obtain a few provisions... or save up to get something I would enjoy having. All things considered I was given a fair deal as it had once belonged to an employee that was no longer with them. Much better than I could have gotten it from an internet website or from the re-enactors back home. Not to mention their accuracy is something to be admired."

His hands fell away from her hips when she stepped back. "All right then," Abbie said, picking the black trunks up out of the cart. "We're getting these... now lets go grab a few snacks and we should still be able to make Key West by sunrise."

Ichabod looked mildly annoyed for a moment but then gestured for her to lead the way. Abbie smirked and gave him a polite curtsey before leading him toward the grocery side of the store. He would thank her for being insistent about him getting in the water in the end. If he wanted to be annoyed with her until that moment, she was fine with that.

"Lieutenant, if I may," Ichabod said, walking along beside her through the aisle. 

Abbie nodded in approval for him to speak. She wasn't sure if she fell into certain habits that came from his time period because it made him more comfortable or if maybe she noted him doing it and took to doing it because she, herself, wanted to be polite. Or maybe it was the way he smiled when she would do it.

"If it would not offend you overly much," he stated. "May I be permitted to assume financial responsibility for our provisions this morning?"

Abbie sent him a sidelong glance. The clever bastard, she mused to herself. "If you want. But if you ask them to put the trunks back, I'll buy them anyway."

Ichabod at least had the dignity to act admonished. "I am offended that you think I would only wish to make the purchases in order to deny you the pleasure of seeing me in the accursed trunks again." Abbie cocked an eyebrow at him. "I assure you, Lieutenant, nothing which will bring you joy, regardless of how minute of an item it may be, you shall not be denied it."

Abbie hugged one of his arms and sighed. He really knew how to spoil a girl when he put effort into it. "In that case... hold onto your money." He looked down at her confused. "I was always taught that if you invite someone along, you assume full financial responsibility for provisions. That means I am covering room and board and anything else we need. You only have to pay for things you want but don't need like alcohol and souvenirs... and the alcohol thing is only if it's your idea to get it. If I say, 'let's go get some beers and sing karaoke'... then beers are on me."

When he pursed his lips, she added, "It would _bring me joy_ to do this." There, she used his words against him, now he had to shut up about it. When he sighed, she knew that would be an end to that branch of conversation.

They were back on the road within an hour after that. Before leaving, she let down the top of the rented mini she had traded in Atlanta. Once they hit the seven mile bridge, she was glad she had swapped out rentals. It was worth it just to see Ichabod with his head lain back on the head rest, smiling at the feel of the sea air on his face, his hand laying relaxed on top of the emergency brake.

Abbie let her hand fall next to his and she tentatively touched the back of his hand with her pinkie. She smiled when he captured her fingers and entwined his with hers.

A few hours later, they were standing at the southernmost point, watching the sky lighten as the sun came up over the eastern side of the island. Abbie had to say she was a bit disappointed that a building blocked the view of the sunrise. Once they got checked in at the hotel, she'd have to look up the best place to see it. Either that or on check out day they could leave early and watch it come up from Key Largo.

But, she was pretty sure they wouldn't be able to get checked in until after lunch, so that meant... "Let's find somewhere to change into our swimsuits and hit the beach," Abbie suggested.

  
#  


_Good Lord_ , Ichabod thought for probably the thousandth time in the past fifteen minutes. His eyes were wide and he could not look away. He had thought the suit which Abbie had selected for him to wear swimming was indecent. But that was the image of modesty compared to the bright blue, barely-present, material she wore.

Moisture had completely vacated his mouth the moment she had stepped out of the public restroom in what she called a _bikini_ and flip-flops with her hair secured atop her head with a matching scarf. 

Try as he may, he could not manage to convince the lustful thoughts to go away. He proceeded Abbie into the cool water of the Gulf in hopes of avoiding a rather awkward situation that was arising despite his efforts to control it. It was considerably helpful. Although it did nothing to stop the vision of her body that was now permanently burned into his brain. 

"See? I told you, you would like it," Abbie said, standing back from him in the water. She was barely thigh deep and held her hand out to him.

Ichabod let his eyes sweep over her. Maybe he was growing accustomed to the vision of her scantly clad, as she were, or perhaps the cool waters had done the trick. He took her hand and joined her closer to the shoreline. "I shall admit, it is rather nice." He looked down at the water hesitantly. A collective of sea creatures floated lazily past them. There must have been more than three dozen of the flat, grey animals with long whip-like tails. "Despite the local wildlife..."

Abbie looked around and panic crossed her her face. "Oh, hell no!" Next thing he knew, she was trying to climb up him, swearing frantically. "I refuse to go out like Steve Irwin..." She finally managed to perch herself on his shoulder--not both, just one and Ichabod was trying desperately to help keep her safe while also avoiding putting his hand anywhere on her person... the latter was proving most difficult to be a success. "How the hell are you so calm?! Those things can kill someone."

Ichabod pulled a face as Abbie gripped his hair tightly to try and keep steady. "They seem quite peaceful... Just remain calm." The last of them passed. "They have gone... perhaps the beach was a bad idea."

"I'm good..." Abbie said calmly. "I just didn't think those things came around here... Okay... I'm getting down. Looks like I am _not_ going to be dying today, which always a good thing."

Her words hit him like the cool waves crashing against him. Ichabod guided her from his shoulder and cradled her in his arms. She smiled kindly at him. "Abigail..." he started and her smile faded.

Concern crossed her face. "What's wrong, Ichabod? Tell me... Please? I know something's wrong. Something's been wrong since we started this trip and you won't tell me."

He should have known she realized something was amiss. The lieutenant was a clever woman, so of course she would know. How she had kept it in that she knew was beyond him. Or, perhaps, she had just been waiting for him to say something, not wanting to tell him before she felt he was ready to hear it.

"I know your motive for inviting me on this journey, Lieutenant," Ichabod admitted. "And whilst I admire your dedication to my emotional status..."

"How... how did you find out?" Abbie asked. "I was careful... I've only told... Jenny! Did Jenny tell you?" Abbie eased herself into the water and took several steps back. "I swear I am going to..."

"It was not from Miss Jenny..." Ichabod said. "I unintentionally overheard you speak to her on your telephone on our first night in Williamsburg." He grasped her hand, enveloping it in both of his. "Whatever villainous sickness has stricken you... I vow to you, Grace Abigail Mills, I shall be by your side."

Abbie looked confused for a moment then realization sank in. "You... you think I'm dying?"

"You are not?" Ichabod asked.

She blinked and shook her head, then started laughing. "No! I mean, no, I'm not..." She hid her face in her hands. "Oh God..." she looked up at him. "I am so sorry... I really should have been honest with you..."

Ichabod gathered her into his arms, hugging her tightly. He placed kisses all over her face. The elation he was feeling was unsurpassed. He was not loosing his precious lieutenant to an illness that wanted to take her entirely too soon! He grasped her face and planted a kiss on her lips. 

"You had mentioned doctors, results, and paperwork... and a bucket list... I made the assumption," Ichabod said, hardly able to contain his joy.

Abbie laughed again. "You don't have to be dying to have a bucket list, Ichabod," she sighed. "It's just a list of things you want to get done before you do..." 

He kissed her again. But when he pulled back, Abbie's expression was sad. That's when he realized, if she wasn't dying... but was still concerned of him being without her. That meant... Ichabod shook his head slowly. "No..." he said quietly.

"I'm... leaving Sleepy Hollow," Abbie said. "Alone."

Just as he had just experienced joy, he felt his soul crash to his feet and drown in the salty waters. She... She was leaving him. She had brought him on this journey in order to tell him goodbye. His hands dropped to his sides. A numbness washed over him and his feet propelled him forward, out of the ocean and onto the beach.

"Ich... Ichabod... Ichabod!" Abbie called after him. "Ichabod wait..."

Her voice faded as he reached the car and retrieved the bag he had put his normal clothing into when he had changed. From there, he just let his feet guide him to wherever they would lead him.

  
#  


_"What do you mean you screwed up?" Jenny asked._

_"I think I had a drunken tryst with Ichabod," Abbie admitted._

_Jenny was quiet a moment. "Did you just say 'tryst'?"_

_"Dammit Jenny this isn't funny!"_

_"You're right... you're right," Jenny said, although her tone indicated that she thought it was hilarious. "So what happened?"_

_"I told him about Quantico," Abbie replied. "There was a whole bunch of crap but... we ended up getting drunk... and then I woke up in the bed naked with him."_

_"So you don't know for sure if anything happened?" Jenny asked. "Have you asked him what happened?"_

_"No, why would I--" Abbie paused. Eidetic memory. She wondered if it worked when he was falling down drunk._

  
#  


Abbie paced restlessly, keeping her eyes on her phone. She mentally cursed her short legs and feet getting caught in wet sand. She had tried to catch him to tell him everything, but mother nature had other plans and by time she had gotten free he was gone.

So she looked around a bit then decided to do the right thing and get the police involved. They tried to give her the bull crap about waiting 24 hours. "That is bullshit and you know it you lazy son of a bitches," Abbie had snapped at them. "The first twenty four hours are the most critical in any missing persons case, so get your doughnut eating, coffee guzzling, asses up and help me find my friend."

Of course they were more willing to help once she mentioned having been a police officer and was about to be going into the FBI. Apparently they watched enough television to know you didn't piss off the FBI, whether they were a recruit or full-fledged agent. Also, a 6"2' white male wearing colonial clothing would be sort of hard to _not_ find in Key West.

They had yet to get back to her. It had been so long that she had went ahead and checked into the hotel and started to wait. The sun would be going down if she waited any longer.

She ran to her phone when it started beeping from her receiving a text message. _It was from Ichabod!_

My Dearest Abigail,

I hope my text message finds you well. When I arrived in this century I was confused, penniless, and held no true identity in this world. I am to understand that any man who relies upon another to provide for him is truly unworthy to call himself a man, much less a gentleman. However, the grace and sincerity in which you have provided for a pathetic excuse of a person such as I is to be commended. And I shall never forget it. My inability to show gratitude to you is unforgivable and a stain upon our bond. I have decided to venture forth on my own so that you do not feel the need to leave your home. Just know that I shall always hold you dear to my heart.

Most sincerely,

Ichabod Crane

Abbie quickly dialled his number and waited for him to answer. He picked up on the third ring. She didn't wait for him to speak, instead she just softly asked, "Where are you?"

She heard him draw in a deep breath. "My missive was perfectly clear, Lieutenant. I shall continue my journey..." his voice cracked. "Alone. You have your sister and friends in Sleepy Hollow, you should not feel compelled to leave because of my inability to cope with your modern society..."

Abbie closed her eyes and shook her head. "Ichabod," she said gently. "Where are you? I would... prefer to have this conversation face-to-face so that I can-- _may_ adequately convey information of utmost importance."

"I am at the home of a gentleman by the name of... Ernest Hemingway," Ichabod replied. "I have been befriended by some rather delightful cats."

"Stay put, I'm coming to get you," Abbie said.

  
#  


He couldn't bring himself to look at her. He felt unworthy of looking upon her beautiful face, seeking her forgiving smile. It was his fault she wanted to leave Sleepy Hollow, he knew. He would be a fool if he didn't realize it by now. What other reason would she have for leaving? The fact it had taken him thus far was telling of how self-centric his state of mind had been.

When Abbie had picked him up, he had kept his hands firmly in his pockets despite her seeking them. Even in the car, she had attempted to coax his hand from his coat. 

"It's not your fault," Abbie said, when they pulled up to a stop sign. "I know you have it in your head that everything is your fault. But it's not. You ran off before I could finish telling you everything."

"I admire and appreciate your kindness, Lieutenant," Ichabod murmured as she started driving again. "But I am wholly undeserving of your vindication."

"You know why I brought you along with me?" Abbie asked. He shook his head. "Because I wanted to spend time with you, just us. No impending doom, no Jenny, no demons. Just us. And I wanted to give you some happiness before I left. And I wanted a little happiness too. I felt we deserved it after everything. You sure as hell deserved it." She tugged at his coat sleeve. "I'm not abandoning you."

He finally looked at her. She glanced at him a smiled.

"Then where are you going that I may not follow?" Ichabod asked. 

"Quantico," Abbie replied. "Remember me telling you about it?" Ichabod nodded. "Twenty weeks. That's all I'll be gone. Not forever. In fact, I'm just going to let Jenny hold down my apartment while I'm gone."

Quantico. The FBI training she had been considering before he had staggered into her life. Suddenly his heart felt light again, as it had for those few moments after he had discovered she was not dying. She was not abandoning him as he had feared... she was doing something she had not been able to do because of him. 

"This is... most joyous news, Lieutenant," Ichabod said, in all earnestness. 

He watched a bright smile go to her lips. "So you're not upset any more?" she asked.

"Certainly not," Ichabod responded. "I am well aware of your desire to become an FBI profiler... If anyone is deserving of achieving their dream, it is most assuredly you." His mood was all but completely forgotten, replaced by the elation at his lieutenant's news. "This is cause for celebration... We must have drinks at the nearest establishment that provides both alcohol and karaoke." He gave her a smile he hoped was enigmatic. "And since it is my idea and a celebratory event uplifting your accomplishment, it is... My treat."

Abbie looked at him. For the first time on their trip, she looked relieved. "You're... okay with me being gone for that long?"

"I was unaware you needed my permission," Ichabod replied. "I was of the belief that a bold and modern woman, as clever and capable as yourself, was fully capable of making her own decisions. Had it been a less noble cause, I may have attempted to dissuade you, but this is the path you have chosen... And I shan't dream of trying to stop you." He grasped her hand firmly, something she had been trying to get him to do since she had picked him up, and kissed her palm.

Abbie shook her head. "I was worrying this entire time for nothing."

"I am relieved you are not dying," Ichabod admitted. "I do not think I could go on without you if you did."

"We have really got to start being open and honest with each other," Abbie said. "I can't imagine what you were going through, thinking I was dying. Is that why you've been being so... affectionate?"

Ichabod drew in a deep breath. He wanted to remind her that he had always been overly affectionate with her. It had been quite the source of contention between him and Katrina, behind closed doors. And it was probably one of the primary reasons why he had been unable to reconnect with his late wife the way he had hoped. "Actually, it was why I was trying to hold back. I was torn between thinking it would only make your final days harder and... feeling I was taking advantage of your delicate state." Abbie pulled in at a resort. Ichabod looked at her questioningly. "What is this place?"

Abbie held out her hand. "Give me your phone." She wriggled her fingers and he deposited it in her hand. "Our room is right there... We're going to turn on your gps and I am going to turn on a program to help me find your phone's location... Then I'm going to call the police and tell them to stop looking for you. _Then_ we're getting changed to go out." She gave him a small smirk. "I liked your idea of celebrating."

  
#  


_Abbie raised her head as she heard a clamour outside of the bathroom, followed by the sound of Ichabod vomiting. She put her phone back to her ear. "Let me call you back. He's awake. We're both probably going to stay in today and medicate our hangovers..."_

_"Great idea," Jenny said. "You know... they say vigorous activity, like sex, and hydration helps better than anything you can buy on the market."_

_"They do not say that and you know it," Abbie grumbled._

_"I saw it on the internet, it must be true," Jenny teased. "Speaking of which... I think I have a small hangover myself..."_

_Her sister hung up before Abbie could find out who Jenny would be testing her theory out on. Abbie took in a deep breath and stood. She opened the door to see Ichabod crouched down with his face in the small garbage can. When he looked up at her, she could tell that he was a similar state as her. "Please tell me you remember what happened last night."_

_His eyes took an achingly slow path down her body and back up to her eyes. "I do..."_

_"What happened?" Abbie asked._

_"At what point would you like me to begin?" Ichabod replied. "Although I will freely admit that, while I recall everything, I fear the order may be somewhat jumbled."_

_Abbie thought a long moment. "How about... after the second round of jager bombs?"_

_Ichabod searched his memory. "Was that before or after the kamikazes?"_

  
#  


Abbie laughed heartily as they slammed their empty shot glasses down on the bar, hers just half a second before Ichabod's. Ichabod's face was priceless--a mix of disgust and the beginnings of impairment that came with tequila.

"That is by far the most wretched and loathsome beverage I have ever tasted," he said, coughing and rubbing his eyes. 

"One more round!" Abbie barked, then hit her hand down on the bar. "And this time we'll do them properly. Salt, lime, the whole she-bang."

The bartender glanced toward Ichabod, who nodded with approval at Abbie's order. "So what are we celebratin'," the bartender asked as she poured them up another round a piece. She put out two salt shakers and wedges of lime on a napkin then placed the full shot glasses next to them.

Ichabod eyed the amber liquid warily before picking it up. "My dearest friend and companion, Abigail, is going to achieve her dream of becoming an FBI profiler." Abbie took the shot from him and set it down.

"Salt first Crane," Abbie said. He watched as she licked her wrist and dashed some salt on the wet spot. She offered her wrist towards him. 

Ichabod felt his face warm and he glanced around the crowded bar. Everyone appeared to be involved in their own conversations and paying no mind to them. However the indecency of the Abbie's offer gave him pause. It was one thing to do certain things in the privacy of their own room and another to do them in public.

She held her offer for a few more seconds before consuming the salt herself and drinking the shot, following it by putting the lime wedge in her mouth. "Come on, you need to keep up," Abbie teased around the wedge.

Ichabod grimaced but mirrored the action Abbie had taken. It was still wretched but, all things considered, was slightly more tolerable.

"FBI, eh?" the bartender asked. "Congrats... here..." She set out two tall shot glasses and poured a red mixture into them. "These two are on me. Not every day I get FBI in here." She looked at Ichabod pointedly. "If Cuervo is a bit too rough for you, I got some Patron silver... It's a bit smoother, stronger, and not as bitter. But it costs more."

Ichabod picked up the red brew the bartender had already served. "And what is this called?"

"Hurricane shots. If you're wanting to do a lot of drinking and not spend a bunch, we have kamikazis and jager bombs on special for shots," the bartender offered. "We've also got Irish car bombs two for five until nine."

He and Abbie lightly clinked their glasses and drank the free drinks. It was considerably better than the tequila Abbie had insisted on. "Just how many of your brews are named after violent instruments of war?" he asked.

"To be honest, I've lost count," the bartender replied. "What can I get y'all next?"

"Let us try this... Patron of silver," Ichabod said.

"Look at you, big spender," Abbie teased as the bartender set up the next round. 

When it came time to drink, Abbie made him pause. Ichabod watched as she pushed up the sleeve of his coat and shirt to expose his wrist. His breath hitched as she lightly laved attention on the tender underside of his wrist with her tongue. She sprinkled salt on the damp spot then licked it off before grabbing her glass and downing her drink. Abbie put the thin sliver of lime in her mouth and smiled like a cat which had gotten the cream.

"It's good," she said around the lime. Again she offered her wrist to him. "Go for it."

His eyes roamed down the length of her arm as he cradled her hand in his. He swallowed hard as he took in the sight of her sweet smile and lightly fluttering lashes. Before they had made their outing, they had stopped at the hotel room and she had changed into a black dress she had described as flirty and fun, perfect for celebrating her impending journey through training. But what caught him most aback was her open willingness to participate in an activity he still thought better suited to the privacy of the hotel room. 

His eyes swept the room again. There was still none who seemed to care what they were doing. Perhaps it would not hurt to indulge his lieutenant just this once... That is, if _he_ could refrain from getting carried away.

Admittedly, when he started the process, he lightly brushed his lip over her wrist before letting his tongue taste her skin. He indulged in her flavour a little too much at first, stopping only when she softly said his name and he remembered where they were. _Salt_ he reminded himself and dashed a small amount on Abbie's wrist. His mouth tasted mostly of her when he took his drink.

As promised, the drink went down smoother. When he put down the glass, he reached for his lime only to find it gone. He found it perched at the edge of Abbie's lips. Surely such a temptation would be his undoing. Despite hearing warning bells in his head, he moved in to pluck the fruit from her mouth with his own. At the last second, Abbie drew the fruit into her mouth, luring him in closer to fetch it.

Had they not been in engaged in a fierce battle for the tangy sweetness of the lime, Ichabod would have been tempted to call what they shared a kiss. When the battle ended, he had the lime and Abbie gave his bottom lip a gentle nip before pulling away.

"You lead me further down the path of temptation, Miss Mills," Ichabod commented, removing the lime from his mouth.

"Just a path?" Abbie asked, innocently dabbing the corners of her mouth with a cocktail napkin. "I was hoping I had at least put you on the turnpike. Or do you require a higher degree of inebriation to get there?"

"If you recall, Abigail, as one grows closer to their destination, the streets in which they travel become narrower," Ichabod pointed out. "The turns require much more delicate navigation to avoid disaster. And never wise to do so in an inebriated state."

Abbie considered his words for a moment then swore under her breath. "Okay when you say 'path'... are we talking country dirt road or a path so narrow only a rabbit can squeeze through?"

"Field mice have trouble navigating the path," Ichabod replied bluntly. "And at this point, the only options are to turn and go back from whence we came or to break through the under brush and forge a newer and bolder path."

Abbie drew her bottom lip in between her teeth. "Damn. I wish I had known that before we got to drinking. I could really use a good forging right now." She sighed heavily. "I guess it's jager bombs instead."

  
#  


_Abbie averted her face as Ichabod stood to his full height. She had been so intent on asking him what had happened that she hadn't realized he was kneeling at her feet naked. "Could you... put some pants on, please?"_

_"Already doing so," Ichabod replied groggily. "I am decent."_

_Abbie looked back toward him. "What happened?" she asked for what felt like the hundredth time that morning._

_Ichabod sat on the bed and rubbed his eyes. "We indulged entirely too much in alcoholic beverages."_

_"That's not what I meant!" Abbie shrieked. They both cringed as a sharp headache seized them. Abbie lowered her tone and repeated, "That's not what I meant..."_

_"I assure you, Lieutenant," Ichabod replied quietly. "It was not from lack of your trying, but we did not engage in amorous activities."_

_"We were both naked," Abbie pointed out._

_"It was your idea to sleep naked," Ichabod groused, rubbing his temples._

  
#  


They were holding each other up as they staggered around the building to their suite. Abbie was giggling uncontrollably at Ichabod's deep baritone of a voice as he sang a drinking shanty that wasn't exactly family friendly. When it got too naughty she put a finger over his mouth. "Shhhh... people are sleeping," she whispered sneakily. "We have to be quiet."

It was one thing to sing about promiscuous sailors daughters while in the cab, but now that they had poured themselves out of it, they needed to keep it down.

Ichabod lounged against the door as she tried to focus enough to get the key card into the slot. "Do you feel adequately celebrated, Lieutenant or shall we have another party tomorrow?" He looked ruffled and drunk, but the look in his eyes was pure lust.

Abbie fluttered her eyelashes. "The only party I want right now is in your pants," she said. She barked out a laugh of victory when the little light on the door blinked green. She twisted the handle and pushed the door open. Ichabod flailed and hit the floor as he lost his prop. Abbie laughed heartily then covered her mouth with her hand to try and quiet herself. Once she managed to curb it, she lowered her hand and squeaked, "Sorry..."

Ichabod rolled over and carefully climbed back to his feet, clinging to both the door and Abbie to do so. Abbie didn't much mind because he was mostly using her as a means to stand straight and he did _not_ care what he grabbed a handful of. He ended up with a handful of one of her breasts. Once he realized this, he leaned against the wall and waggled a finger at her. "You shall not lead me astray you... you... beautiful... voluptuous... ebony-skinned goddess. I am imp... I am... I am imperv-- I will not yield, no matter how seductive and tempting you are."

Abbie made sure to put out the Do Not Disturb sign before closing it and locking up for the night. "You're the one with grabby hands," Abbie retorted, poking him in the chest. "So don't be blaming me because you can't control yourself."

Ichabod huffed the best he could in his state, "I will have you know, Miss Mills," he grasped her finger and then tugged her against him. His voice turned thick and heavy as molasses, "The fact you do not have your back against that door, with me burying myself inside of you is a testament to my being able to control myself."

Her face flushed and Abbie fanned herself at the mental image he presented. "We can arrange that situation, you know." She stood on her toes and pulled him down for a kiss. She kept it simple and soft so she could easily break away and ask, "What else?"

"Pardon?"

"What else are you keeping yourself from doing?" Abbie murmured against his lips. His hands framed her face, she grasped the waistline of his trousers. Their mouths moved in gentle tandem against each other as she lured him closer to the bed.

"Throwing you upon this bed and feasting upon the sweetness between your silken thighs," Ichabod replied, lifting her to sit on the edge of the bed.

" _That_ can definitely be arranged," Abbie said. She guided his coat down his arms until he let go of her long enough to let it drop to the floor. She tugged his shirt out of the waist of his trousers. Her nimble fingers went to work on loosening the strings at his neckline. "Tell me more..."

She had a theory that she could distract him enough to at least get most of his clothes off. Although, she was stumped on how to get him out of his trousers and boots without him catching on. She would just have to cross that bridge when she got there.

"More...?" Ichabod asked as she dragged his shirt up and off of his body. "The multitude of ways which I have imagined our coming together could fill a bookshelf with bound tomes." 

Abbie placed kisses on his chest, paying special attention to the scar there. Ichabod's hands glided up her thighs, drawing her skirt up to her hips. She ran her hands over his stomach and chest, enjoying the gentle tickle of his chest hair on her palms. She could feel him tugging at the back of her skirt, which she was seated on.

He stepped back and narrowed his eyes at her. "You... siren," he said in a quiet but accusatory tone. Abbie gave him an impish grin. "You think you are cunning but... you shall not disrobe me and remain wholly clothed yourself."

That went the complete opposite way she had expected. She thought for sure he was going to try and refuse her... again. Abbie shimmied the back of her skirt from underneath herself then pulled the entire garment over her head, throwing it down on the floor. When Ichabod's eyes widened in wonder, she considered the idea that maybe she should have warned him about her lack of wearing a bra.

After a moment he sprang into action, fighting to get his boots off without tearing his attention away from her. Gravity however, saw it fit to drag him down to the floor again. "You are falling down drunk Ichabod Crane," Abbie teased.

"Drunk off the beauteous vision before me," he replied, managing to fee himself from the boots. He freed himself of his other clothing until he was left only with a pair of very modern boxers on his person. "I must soon make the transition to modern clothing. I fear my current attire is quite cumbersome."

He crawled across the floor, returning to her. "Don't you dare," Abbie scolded. "I think your _attire_ is perfect." Her breath hitched when his lips touched her knee. "It's very... you." His large hands moulded to her hips and he nuzzled her belly before looking up at her.

"Everyone asks you what my _deal_ is," Ichabod commented. "Whilst I am have no desire to wear skinny jeans... I feel I would cause less embarrassment to you if I found something modern which I could enjoy wearing."

Abbie sighed heavily and urged him back onto his feet. Once he was standing, she entwined her fingers behind his neck. "When we met... I felt like I had found this... really weird piece of coal." Ichabod arched an eyebrow. "But," Abbie quickly continued. "After a while I discovered underneath the surface there was this diamond. It was a little rough around the edges, but all it needed was a little cleaning up. Then everyone starts telling me I need to take it to the jeweller and get it cut and make it look like all the other diamonds.

"But I realized, after an assessment, I kinda like the diamond like it is. I mean the diamond's not perfect but... It has this sparkle to it that I don't want to go away. Yea, cutting it would make it shine even more, but, the sparkle that I know would go away... and it's won't really be my diamond any more." She pulled the cord holding his hair in a ponytail so she could enjoy the feel of the tendrils between her fingers. "People still ask me why I keep that rough diamond... but now I've just kinda started saying, 'Fuck you I like my diamond the way it is.'"

They shared a small laugh.

"That was almost philosophical, Miss Mills," Ichabod murmured, cradling her cheek with one of his hands.

"We're not having sex tonight, are we?" Abbie asked.

"No we are not," Ichabod replied, brushing his lips over hers.

Abbie pouted softly. "What if I said pretty please?"

"The answer is still no."

"But why? We both want it even when we're not drunk."

Ichabod pulled back enough he could look into her eyes. "Because, Miss Mills, you are deserving of the complete, unaltered attention of your lover. I refuse to have us consummate our bond in the manner of shameless, rutting animals."

Maybe it was the alcohol still talking, but Abbie wouldn't mind a shameless rutting. "Can we at least sleep naked?" Ichabod gave her an incredulous look. "Oh come on, it'll be hilarious when we wake up. Especially if I forget..." She gave him a quick peck on the lip. "Besides, if we wake up sober... we can get right to that _complete, unaltered attention_ I deserve."

After a moment of deliberation, Ichabod conceded. A few minutes later, they huddled into the bed, finding each other in the pitch darkness. And it wasn't nearly as hilarious waking up naked with Ichabod as Abbie had thought it would be.

  
#  


"Plop, plop, fizz fizz, oh what a relief it--oh to hell with it," Abbie grumbled dropping the tablets into water. She slid one of the cups over to Ichabod. She rubbed her forehead and groaned. "It's past noon and it's still not gone..."

"This concoction is dreadful," Ichabod muttered, but finished drinking it down anyway.

"I am tempted to never drink again," Abbie said.

"As am I..."

Abbie was giving the hang over until three to subside, which then she would have to go pick the car up from the bar. If the alka seltzer didn't work, she was on to the next hangover relief on the internet. She gave her phone a foul look when it rang too loud.

It was Jenny. She just turned the volume down and threw the phone face down on the bed. 

"How's it working?" Abbie asked.

Ichabod shook his head then ran to the bathroom for probably the fifth time in two hours. Abbie sighed and eyed her cup of fizzing water. As she drank it down, she couldn't help but think:

_Never again_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Orleans - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split New Orleans into two parts because, well, the second half NEEDS to be its own chapter. Also, I'm not sure if Monet is based off a friend of mine that lives in New Orleans or if my muses were channeling Lafayette from True Blood... either way, as someone who was born and raised in the south, I can confirm that his personality is 100% southern. We are almost compelled to call everyone sweetheart, baby doll, etc. and the ones that don't care about sugar coating are often brutally blunt. And we're all crazy. Completely batcrap crazy.

Abbie frowned as she followed the GPS through the crowded casino. She had tried calling him three times and he still hadn't answered. Part of her as tempted to take Las Vegas off the schedule if Ichabod went missing for hours on end every time they went to a casino. It wouldn't be so bad if she hadn't woke up alone because he had snuck out in the middle of the night to do whatever the hell he was doing.

Again.

She wasn't really sure what was going on in his head but he was acting weird, even for him. Ever since their night of celebrating her going to Quantico, he would get out of bed in the middle of the night and return about an hour later, grumbling as if something had annoyed him.

It wasn't so much his getting out of bed. It was that she missed him when he wasn't there. And he would always whisper her name before getting out of bed, to make sure she was asleep.

He had gotten out of bed around 4am, stayed in the bathroom for about an hour, and then cautiously vacated the room. So she had gotten her sleep because she wanted to make it to New Orleans from Tampa sometime before midnight. But the fact Ichabod was still missing and it was almost noon, she didn't think that was going to be happening.

Part of her was worried she would have to actually buy a leash to keep track of the man.

Abbie looked around. It said he was about fifty feet away from her and heading her way. She stayed put and as soon as she saw him, she put her fists on her hips. "What the hell have you been doing?" Her annoyance began to dissipate when he beamed a smile at her. Whatever he had been doing he was certainly proud of himself.

"I have been experimenting, Lieutenant," he replied, digging into his pockets. He pulled out a handful of colourful coins and put them in her hands along with a few cards that printed out from the machines when someone won. "And my endeavours have been most fruitful."

He... had spent most of the morning gambling? Abbie stared at the coins, not really sure what to make of them. Was that a purple one? Wait... there was several purple ones. "How much is this?" she asked. 

"I am not entirely certain," Ichabod replied. "The waitress which supplied my ice water and the young gentleman that was in charge of the craps table were very pleased with my _tipping_."

"How much did you tip them?" Abbie asked. "We should really take all of this to the counter and cash it in for you."

"That is where I was going," Ichabod said. "I asked which of the coins held the most value and presented them with two each."

Abbie swallowed hard. _He had given away two thousand dollars as tips_. Of course the employees were pleased with him. "Ichabod... we need to get on the road as soon as we exchange this for real money."

Ichabod looked confused. "It couldn't be time to leave already... I left the room merely an hour ago." 

Abbie shook her head. "No, Ichabod you left the room about five. It's..." she looked at the clock on her phone. "It's actually noon now." She would be lucky if they made New Orleans by midnight.

Ichabod drew in a sharp breath and looked very _displeased_ with himself. "Yes, let us take leave of this den of gambling and sin."

They approached the bored looking cashier and placed all of Ichabod's winnings on the counter--which he still had more in his pockets. The girl looked at the stack of coins and winnings tickets and turned toward the back of the kiosk to call her manager over.

The manager, of course, had to verify a few things but almost half an hour later, they were walking out of the casino, to the car. Abbie's head was reeling from the amount of Ichabod's winnings. He had won a little over two thousand on just the machines and, if he hadn't tipped the employees two thousand, he would have walked out with over ten thousand in winnings total.

When they reached the car, Ichabod opened her door for her. "Lieutenant," he said in that tone he seemed to always use when he was about to do something that was either very stupid or very noble.

Abbie looked at him speculatively. "Ichabod."

He pulled the money from his pocket and pushed it into her hands. "I have no need for such vast amounts of money. You, however, have provided for me these past few years and it is time I repaid my debt to you."

Abbie gently took the money and returned it to his pocket. "Stop it," she said with a warning tone. "No more of this... repaying crap, Crane. I mean it's nice you've made the effort but... I don't want your money. And I don't need it. When we get back to Sleepy Hollow, we'll go open you an account and... you can do whatever you want with it.." She slid into the driver's seat. "Now come on."

Ichabod nodded in consent and closed her door. "Did you put my camera into the back?" Abbie nodded and he got in on his side and reached into the back seat to retrieve his camera bag.

"Top up or down?" Abbie asked. When he smiled, she knew it was the kind of day to feel the wind in their hair.

  
#  


How could a place be so humid in February, Abbie thought in annoyance. _That's just New Orleans, sweetheart,_ the property owner had explained to her when she complained about it upon check in.

The owner was a friend of Nick Hawley's, that called himself Monet, which should have raised more than a few red flags. Supposedly it was the guy's attempt at a legitimate business. Since he owed Nick a favour and needed some reviews, he had agreed to let Abbie stay there at a discounted rate. 

All things considered, a cosy little apartment on St Charles was a hard deal to pass up, especially since the locals were already in the heat of Mardi Gras. She would have complained about being called 'sweetheart' except the Cajun had looked Ichabod over appreciatively and asked, "And what setting do I put on the time machine to get this sexy thing? I'd like to get one of my own."

Ichabod blushed and pulled Abbie closer. "I assure you," he said, sounding bashful. Abbie grinned up at him. "There was no time machine involved."

Abbie patted Ichabod's chest. "Besides, this one is already taken."

"Babydoll," Monet said with a teasing tone. "He's already shown he likes him some brown sugar, so as I see it I have half a chance as long as there's not a ring on that finger." With that Monet showed them to the entrance of the apartment. Once at the door, they were presented with a key. Monet gave Abbie a festive business card. "If you darlin's need anything, just let me know. My shop downstairs opens for breakfast at five... Guests get a free breakfast every morning." He gave Ichabod a bright green card and a wink. " _Appelle moi, bèbè_."

Once Monet had walked away, Abbie looked up at Ichabod's perplexed expression. She wondered if he was trying to figure out Monet's flirting. "Brown sugar?" he muttered. "What in the heavens does that mean?"

"I think it's one of those weird Southern slangs that's meant to be a compliment but comes off as an insult. Or maybe it's the other way around," Abbie said as they went into the apartment. She dropped her bag onto the floor near the door and Ichabod followed suit with his own. Thankfully shutting the door also shut out the humidity and left them in an invitingly cool apartment. When she clicked on the light, her breath was taken away. She wasn't sure what to call the decor, but if she had to give it a name she'd call it southern gothic. Almost everything was in a rich burgundy and black scheme. "He definitely took the Anne Rice approach seriously."

Ichabod was, of course, immediately drawn across the room to the floor to ceiling bookcase that was filled with books both classic and modern. After a moment he turned on his heels and clasped his hands behind his back. "It is truly a testament to French extravagance." He glanced about the room. "And we are to be here an entire week, yes?"

"Is that okay?" Abbie asked. 

His hands dropped to his sides and his fingers twitched. "It is... most ideal."

He was sending mixed signals, Abbie noted. He was saying things were okay but he was showing his typical mannerisms of being nervous. "You all right?"

His fingers stopped twitching and he drew in a deep breath. "Yes. I simply must remind myself to not fear being bold." Suddenly Ichabod smirked and got an expression of curious bewilderment. "Am I mistaken in the assumption that Monsieur Monet was... flirting with me?" Abbie shook her head and laughed. Ichabod held out his hand. "Our journey has been long, Lieutenant. Let us have rest before we venture out to explore tomorrow."

If she knew it wouldn't scare him away, she could easily throw him down on the sofa and have her way with him when he was being his adorably charming self. She locked the door up and walked across the room to take Ichabod's hand. She clicked off the main light and together they discovered a laundry room, a bathroom, and finally the bedroom.

Each room was as lavish and gorgeous as the living room had been. A mix of black walls and exposed brick, candelabra sconces with lights made to look like candles, and a roomy dark wood canopy bed--heavy red velvet curtains hanging draped from black wrought iron canopy supports, black satin sheets and a gorgeous, thick red duvet--made it feel like Abbie had just stepped into a vampire novel.

She rushed over to the almost transparent curtains hanging over a set of French doors that led out to a small balcony that looked over St Charles. "We won't have to go down to street level to watch the parades," she pointed out as Ichabod came up behind her, putting his hand at the small of her back. They had missed the ones from tonight but there were still a few stragglers milling around the street picking up forgotten leftovers from the throws. The parades and the traffic were the primary reason they had been so late getting in.

"At least this way you have a chance to see them," Ichabod teased.

"Was that a short joke?" Abbie asked flatly.

"Indeed it was, Lieutenant," he murmured in her ear. 

Abbie was about to give him a stern scolding about making fun of her height, but what she was going to say escaped her when he tilted her face toward his and kissed her softly. There had been plenty of kisses since Key West, mostly small and stolen, bordering innocent. This kiss was neither small nor innocent.

It was a sweet reminder.

It was a promise.

_He was hers_.

She turned her body toward his without breaking the kiss, pushed onto her toes, her hands resting on his shoulders. It was her turn to reminds him, while he was hers, she was also very much his whenever he was ready to have her. Although she kinda wanted to know what the hold up was, she wasn't going to pressure him.

Ichabod took her face in his hands as he ended the kiss. Abbie lightly touched her tongue to her lips and could still taste him there. She grasped his wrists to keep his hands in place when he tried to move away. He smiled softly. "I shall leave you to prepare for bed, Lieutenant," he said, barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to leave," she replied. "All I'm going to do is kick off my shoes and take off my jeans. Everything else is staying on." She had just thrown on jeans that morning before they left Tampa, wanting to hurry and get to New Orleans. Or maybe she had just wanted to get on the road so she could let the wind sooth down the wanting she had been experiencing since Ichabod had vacated the bed that morning.

She had just been sleeping in a tank top and her underwear since _that day_ in Key West. And Ichabod had taken to sleeping in either just his pyjama pants or boxers. They had figured, since they had technically already seen each other naked, the perimeters of propriety could be relaxed a little more. What Abbie hadn't counted on was waking up to Ichabod's hand on her hip, thigh, or stomach and how he would lightly trail his fingers up her body as he woke up.

_Every._

_Morning._

But, it was too late to start putting clothes back on when they slept now. After all, waking up next to a half naked Ichabod wasn't exactly a bad thing, just mildly frustrating. Okay so it was very frustrating. God, it was hard being patient when the roles were reversed. She had a newfound respect for some of the exes that she held out on in her youth.

"If I did as much," he replied. "I doubt I could restrain myself."

"Who says you would have to?" Abbie asked, smoothing down the front of his coat and grasping the edges of the button flaps. When she looked up at him, a coy little smile on her lips, for the first time she could see just how close to the point of no return he really was. It was one thing to see that look from across the room, it was another to be right there in front of him and being able to see the subtle dilation of his pupils and the way he set the tip of his tongue to the back of his teeth as he contemplated her offer.

Ichabod slowly trailed his fingers down either side of her, over her shoulders, down her arms, and grasped her hands, holding them to his chest. "I do," he replied, his voice a low, sensual rumble. "I must prove to myself that I am capable of maintaining a non-sexual bond, until a specific day and time, with you despite wanting nothing more than to lose myself inside of you."

Abbie suddenly felt very hot. It was like someone had cut off the air conditioner and opened every window in the room to let the humidity in. 

He already knew what day he wanted to move things forward? Additionally, he knew what _time_ he wanted to commence? She didn't stand a chance, did she? A very vicious little part of her mind wanted to tell him that if they didn't have sex right that moment, she would drop dead in an hour. But she quickly stamped that thought down because, for starters, they had already spent a good portion of their trip with him thinking she was going to die. Second, it was cruel and manipulative.

Abbie stepped back several paces, letting her hands drop to the button of her jeans as she toed off her flip flops. Despite his insistence to not be in the room while she got ready for bed, his eyes followed her hands and he watched as she unfasten the button and slowly pulled down the zip. He sucked in a sharp breath and his mouth moved, trying to form words.

He was like a rubber band being slowly wrapped around something. But, he had been wrapped around so many times he was getting ready to snap. Abbie slid her hands into the waistline of her jeans and started working them over her hips. Ichabod made a small, almost helpless sound, then quickly took leave of the room.

With a wicked smile, Abbie reasoned that, just because _he_ had it in his head the precise time they were going to give in, that didn't mean she couldn't do everything in her power to finally make him break.

  
#  


Abbie grunted when her alarm chimed its cheerful song to wake her up. She picked up her phone and glared at it before clicking the button to completely turn it off. She tossed the phone to the other side of the bed and snuggled back into the warm cocoon of Ichabod's arms. Sometime during the night they had gotten too hot and the duvet and bedsheets were in a twisted heap near the foot of the bed.

She hummed happily as she felt him gently shift behind her and his arms tightened around her waist to align their hips more snugly. His fingers drummed lightly on her thigh and he gave a small grunt near her ear before his fingers trailed up her hip then back down to her thigh. His hand flattened on her thigh before sliding between them. Abbie hummed softly and her eyes fluttered open. She was officially awake. And it was apparently time for her morning helping of being driven crazy until Ichabod decided she was two steps away from pinning him down and having her way with him. 

"Abigail," he whispered against her jaw. "Are you awake?"

"You bet I am," she murmured.

The hand Ichabod had between her legs shifted. Abbie's eyes opened wide as his fingers trailed over the fabric of her underwear then up the based of her belly. He flattened his palm just below her navel. _That was new_. 

"May I?" he asked, his fingers teasing the elastic band of her underwear.

"You," she squeaked. Abbie cleared her throat and, using a normal tone, tried again. "You may." She was curious about what exactly he was wanting permission to do. He couldn't possibly be wanting to do what she thought he wanted to do. But then his hand slipped inside of her underwear and it occurred to her that maybe he wanted to do precisely what she thought he was wanting to do.

Abbie held her breath as those long, beautiful fingers of his teased the patch of hair between her thighs. Had it been anyone else, she would be freaking out because she hadn't taken time to keep up with her grooming habits for that general region. She wasn't exactly sure what he expected _there_ but if way he was stroking and letting the curls twist around his fingers was an indication, he didn't seem to mind what he was finding.

"Abigail..."

"You may," she replied quickly, without even waiting for him to ask. Somehow she knew he was going to ask. She drew in a slow, deep breath as his fingers parted her delicate folds and lazily blazed a path to her opening and back again. He repeated the path again then stopped at the sweet spot that made her shudder. 

"Abbie," Ichabod murmured.

"You better," Abbie replied breathlessly.

Ichabod shifted away enough that she could lay on her back. His hand dove between her legs. Abbie's back arched as he eased a finger inside of her, not driving in too deep, just enough to make her react. The hand that wasn't occupied between her legs, stroked her hair. He kissed her the same time his finger pushed further inside of her. Abbie gasped and he took advantage of it by taking full possession of her mouth with his.

He shifted his position slightly, so he was stretched out along side of her and raised his head to watch her face. He was doing that maddening thing again where his lips were parted just enough for her to see his tongue perched behind his teeth, while trying to hide the quirk at the corner of his mouth.

Abbie's breath started coming in shorter, faster puffs as he kept the movement of his hand intentionally slow and measured. The hand at her hair lightly wound a strand around his fingers and he lightly pressed his lips to the strands. "Abbie," he said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Ichabod, I don't care what you want to do," she growled with desperation. A second finger joined in and the movement of his hand became faster and deeper. "You don't have to ask, just do it. For God's sake, just do it." 

A cocky smile spread across his lips. "Are you absolutely certain that is what you want, Miss Mills?" he asked, his thumb dancing over her clit. She grasped the sheets tightly as she felt her body tensing as he drove her closer to the point of orgasm.

"Oh, God, yes," Abbie moaned, arching against his hand. _Just a little bit longer and..._

Ichabod hand stilled and he placed a light kiss on her lips as he removed his hand from her underwear. "Then I shall make preparations for venturing out to explore this new and exciting place."

He was already out of the room by time she realized what the hell had just happened. She grabbed her pillow, covered her face with it, and screamed in frustration, making sure to call him every foul word she could think of.

  
#  


Ichabod did his best to block his view of Abbie with the breakfast menu. His primary reasoning was that she had been glaring at him since she had finished getting ready for the day--which he noted she was absolutely ravishing in her selection of a pale yellow sundress. The secondary reason was he didn't want her to see him trying to his damnedest to not laugh.

The cause of her glare was one of two reasons. Or possibly both. One being his foray into teasing her that morning. The other being that he had hidden all her undergarments whilst she was distracted texting Miss Jenny prior to taking her shower and getting dressed for the day. While he had felt a slight flush of embarrassment while handling the wide array of silk, lace, and cotton that she wore on her posterior, he was curious about whether she would confront him about them or just continue to act as though nothing was amiss.

Although, when he happened a glance at her over the menu, he wasn't sure if her glare was wanting to throttle him within an inch of his life or if she was fighting the urge to do things that were highly indecent in public, such as they were.

"Good mornin', little mama, I would ask what has your aura lit up like a Christmas tree this mornin' but..." Monet greeted, coming over to their table, brandishing a pen. "I know who you woke up next to." This morning he was attired in a festive, multi-coloured tank top and jeans that hung loose on his hips. This was topped by a well-worn apron emblazoned with 'I' and the pictogram of a heart and a rooster. His make up was just as bright and dramatic as his clothing. He gave Ichabod a wink "So how you is this mornin', handsome?"

Ichabod cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Abbie over his menu again. She was still giving him a hard glare. "In what manner is my companion, as you say, lit up as a Christmas tree?" Ichabod asked with uncertainty.

Monet chuckled gently and pulled a chair over from another table and plopped down in it. "Sweetheart, let me _tell you_ a thing or two about New Orleans," he drawled. "This is _the_ land of love and magic. Paris wishes it had half of what we got. Everyone that calls this beautiful place home is either somehow involved in witchcraft, or they asses lying. So don't believe any of those bitches over there that say they ain't." He waggled his pen toward a group of girls that looked straight out of a burlesque, which earned him a double helping of a rude gesture from each of the women. " _I_ just so happen to be talented in the reading of auras and reading of the soul." He glanced at Abbie and waggled a finger to indicate her slight form. "Little mama's aura is green and red, which tells _me_ she is horny as fuck right now."

Abbie frowned. "I am not," she grumbled and quickly put her attention on her own menu. Ichabod stared at Abbie for a long moment before shaking his head to clear it.

"Mm-hmm, keep tellin' yourself that, baby girl," Monet purred. He stood up and smiled brightly. "Now, what can I get y'all beautiful people for breakfast?"

Abbie pursed her lips and huffed out a sigh as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I'll take the southern style breakfast," she said, her tone flat. 

Ichabod considered the menu again. Almost everything had the feature that it was smothered in a 'home-made sausage gravy'. The selection Abbie had made was one of the few that did not. "I shall attempt the southern style breakfast as well."

"Coming right up sweethearts," Monet chimed and walked off toward what Ichabod could only assume was the kitchen. 

Ichabod gently drummed his fingers on the table as he took in the small diner. Unlike the lavish decor of the rental, the eatery was rustic and almost _folksy_ , as Abbie would say. His eyes fell on a mounted alligator head with an old, mangled doll hanging out of its mouth. Perhaps it was not as folksy as he had initially thought.

He cleared his throat and set to making sure his flatware was set out as properly as possible. Without even looking, he knew Abbie was glaring at him again, therefore he tried to find other things to occupy his attention. His eyes fell to a small plastic container filled with various coloured packets and he pulled it over to start coordinating them first by colour then by which colour had the most numbers. It was something he had done at almost every table at the diner in Sleepy Hollow so he knew Abbie wouldn't see it as something out of his normal range of behaviour.

Abbie shifted in her seat again. "Ichabod, stop please," she said dryly.

He cocked a brow as he slowly returned the container back to its original place on the table, after he finished arranging the packets. "Is something amiss, Lieutenant?" he asked, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. After a moment, he flattened his hands on the stained wood and began drumming his fingers idly.

Abbie reached across the table and grasped his hands. "Can you just... be still for... ten minutes? Please?"

"Certainly," Ichabod replied. "I do apologize, I was not aware I was causing you such distress."

"It's... not distress," Abbie muttered. She gently caressed the back of his hands. "It's just... distracting." She narrowed her eyes when he was unable to suppress a smirk. "You... smug bastard," she said quietly.

"I do not see how a general amount of smugness calls my parentage into question," Ichabod replied. 

"You can't play innocent with me, Ichabod Crane," Abbie said, her tone low and dangerous. The tone had an unforeseen effect on him. It sounded very similar to the soft sounds she had been making that morning. Not exactly the same, but close enough that he felt a rush of blood to a place he rather it didn't go at that very moment. He found himself unable to do anything more than stare at her, transfixed. "You're being a tease. You have been since we started this trip."

Ichabod sat back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest. "I have not," he huffed in offence. "If either of us has been engaging in teasing behaviour it has been you, Lieutenant. Parading around in your under things and... and... wearing revealing swimwear and... wantonly throwing yourself at me whilst I am emotionally compromised."

Abbie arched her eyebrows and sat back in her seat. "You seem to be forgetting that you haven't been able to keep your hands to yourself for more than ten minutes this entire trip. Constantly touching me and kissing me and... driving me crazy. And don't _even_ get me started on what happened this morning."

"I will admit this morning was purely intentional," Ichabod commented, unable to keep a smile from crossing his lips. "But, now that I have been made aware that my touching and kissing you is unwelcome..."

Abbie narrowed her eyes. "If you even think of finishing that sentence I will end you."

Of course he hadn't intended to finish it. He tried to suppress a fresh smirk and was unsuccessful. Abbie picked up one of the sugar packets and threw it at him. She put her hands flat on the table and shifted in her seat. "It's just... I... I have been... sexually frustrated for a while and... you being touchy feely and grabby only makes it worse."

"I see," Ichabod was about to respond further when his phone started chirping out a tune. He fished it from his pocket to see what it was an alarm for, then turned it off. "I think I may have left the coffee pot on, Lieutenant," he said. "If I have not returned by time the order comes out, I will probably require your assistance."

Abbie looked confused for a brief moment. "Yeah, okay..."

Ichabod drummed his fingers on the table. "And for what it is worth, Lieutenant, you are not the only one which has been experiencing such frustrations. I simply do not wish for such frustrations to become the focus of our relationship, such as it is." He stood and started for the door. 

Abbie grabbed his wrist to pull him to a stop. When he looked down at her, she smiled softly. "Hey, we've known each other for a few years now and we're friends that have gotten to know each other pretty well, it'd be understandable if, when we got to that point, we choose to focus on that aspect for a while."

Ichabod turned his arm in her loose grip and caught her fingers. He kissed her knuckles a little longer than his normal sense of propriety should have allowed. "And you once again prove to be the one in possession of sound logic."

He released her hand and hurried out of the diner. With quick steps, he made his way to the access gate to the stairwell for the rentals. He just hoped it didn't take her long to recall complaining about the lack of a coffee maker before they ventured downstairs that morning.


End file.
